Brothers
by Zakarawolf
Summary: They were only children of the same man, not brothers. AU FACE-family centered.
1. Prologue

I write to improve my English as it is not my language, so please, if you notice any mistakes, be it in grammar, vocabulary or a sentence that doesn't make sense, I would be really grateful if you point it out.

**Summary:** After their father's death , four brothers are draw together each unique with their own set of problems. In the craziness that ensues, they discover what it means to be a family.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hetalia

Prologue

Even the strong flavour of the liquor couldn't get him rid of the vile taste he had in mouth.

Arthur Kirkland, 26 years old, writer by profession with a national reputation and self-proclaimed gentleman was sitting there, in the room's darkness and only the moon shining through the curtain and the candle allowed him to discern the prone body lying in the half-closed casket. He raised his glass his eyes never leaving the corpse.

"Well, at least now we know you had a heart seeing as he gave out on you, no?"

His strong British accent contrasted against his cold voice and venom-laced words as his words echoed in the empty room…Empty for anyone else excepts Arthur, as the man knew he was been watched. His gaze stayed on his father while he took another sip of his scotch, his father's favourite liquor, how fitting…

Thomas Kirkland may have been a good person…Somewhere…In another person's eyes, but in the British man's and a lot of those who knew Thomas, he was by no mean someone nice. The deceased was hard in business and didn't hesitate to ruin anyone who stood in his way, he never really was faithful and he did whatever it took to achieve his mean. But with his fame, power and money he was never alone. Arthur scoffed when he tough of all these suck-up at the wake who acted like a saint died.

Ridiculous, all those low-life liar pigs were a joke of human beings.

Slowly, he set down his half-filled glass and almost regrettably, he stood.

"I am sure you will be pleased to hear that none of your other sons attended…Oh, rest assured, I too wouldn't have if I wouldn't have been forced to host the stupid thing."

His steps were muffled by the thick carpet as he made his way to the ebony coffin.

"And now, everybody will come, claiming something from you. Popular even in death, aren't you? True, these two are coming next week, all because of you, you must be so proud to be the reason that we will all be in the same room…"

His hand rested on the open lid as he took his time to examine the man. He has high cheeks and a strong jaw, his eyebrows were thick, his hair a pale blond. In death, he has a serene expression, as if he was sleeping. It sickened Arthur. He sighted, before whispering more for himself than for the deceased.

"Things are going to get messy…"

But, as he slammed the top of the casket, only the resonant thump answered him.


	2. Chapter 1: Should have see it coming

I write to improve my English as it is not my language, so please, if you notice any mistakes, be it in grammar, vocabulary or a sentence that doesn't make sense, I would be really grateful if you point it out.

**Summary:** (They were only children of the same man, not brothers)After their father's death , four brothers are draw together each unique with their own set of problems. In the craziness that ensues, they discover what it means to be a family.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hetalia

* * *

Chapter 1: Should have see it coming 

The air was dusty…He supposed he should have expected it. A glance at his watch told him he would probably be late if he didn't hurry. Regrettably gulfing down the rest of his (delicious) food, he tossed the wrapper before standing and stretching. He couldn't wait! This has been so long since the last time he had been there. Oh, how this brought back…

…

_Memories… _

…

Shaking his blond head, he grinned, he still had a long road ahead of him after all.

* * *

"Get out you bloody frog!"

Now, there was only a handful of people able to make Arthur Kirkland lose his cool. It just happened that Francis Bonnefoy 27 years-old, Frenchman, cook and (sadly) his half-brother was number one in this, oh and, that he was the one currently sitting in Arthur's living room, an eternal smirk on his lips.

"Oh but, _très cher_, weren't you the one to invite me? It's not really polite to…"

"I didn't invite you! Alfred did! This isn't even his damn house, it is mine! So get out before I call the cops! The Englishman bristled back"

"Seeing as M. Zwingli is already there, it's a little too late, non?"

"What are y…?"

The doorbell rang of course. And the look the man send Arthur's way was a little too smug to be something other than victory. Letting a (gentlemanly) groan go, the British man ran a hand through his unruly blond hair, his acid eyes stayed on the Frenchman as he made his way to the door.

Vash Zwingli was know to be a no-nonsense man in Hetalia, this showed in the way he held himself and the firm look he sent Arthur.

"I didn't expect you this early Mr. Zwingli."

They shook hand and the Englishman led him to the lounge

"Let just say that death didn't go unnoticed, I had time to prepare."

Both the deceased's sons grimaced at this. In fact, you would have to be hermit or blind (or both) to not know about the businessman's death as he made the front page of all the newspapers in town. A journalist even had the nerves to come to the wake and try to interview Arthur, (this is to say, that he rapidly understood the extent of his idiocy when he came face to the very irritated man and his ruthless words (It made, at least one person shear true tears for the occasion)).

"Mr. Bonnefoy, I though you couldn't join us?"

Of course he didn't miss the not-so-furtive glare that shared the brothers, but says nothing.

"_Heureusement_, I could set aside my business and join you."

He says pleasantly, but the cold glance he set to the Englishman (whose lips may have (very) slightly curved) reassured Vash that no, these two still didn't get along (and will probably never…).In Hetalia, it's was also a known fact that if they were left alone for a long (or really short, depends) time, the police would have to be called for an homicide. Fortunately, Francis went back to France so it's was the first time in five years that they had to spend time together. And it was only for the length it would take for all the legal procedure and paperwork for the inheritance to be filled. Heritage…

It was the word…The word that would finally bring the three brothers together. Francis, the elder, womanizer and trouble-maker, it was a surprised Thomas Kirkland didn't disown him seeing as he acted like he didn't exist in the first place. From Kirkland's first wife came Arthur, raised strictly by his British mother to inherited the name and fortune's of the Kirkland…Completely useless seeing as their father probably planned to bequeath all his possession to his last and favoured son : Alfred Kirkland. Ironically, the youngest wanted nothing to do with the man, or so he claimed as he ran away and changed his name to his mother's maiden one. Of course there probably wasn't much worth to his words given that he was coming back. But the three of them, in the same room at the same time, talking about the same thing? Had this even happened before? Arthur grimly doubted it. There were no concern, no love, only a kind of contempt they had toward each others. The only thing they had in common was blood from the same man and a complete disrespect for him. That was all. It was not like they really had good memories…

…

_Memories?…_

…

…to share between them.

They were just strangers, cursed enough to be forced to be together, even for one meeting.

"I ought to warn you beforehand."

Vash Zwingli says as he put down his suitcase on the coffee table. He was an executor, it was him their ''father'' designated to separate and manage his wealth after his death. And in the end, he was the one who would decided who gets what, and who would leave with empty hands, so when he spoke, unnecessary to say that the two men would listen. But it didn't make his next words any less hard.

"Mr. Kirland left a will."

The responds were immediate, all playfulness left the older man, and he paled considerably as the executor took out a white envelope to set it on the table. Some may say that the heir of Kirkland's name stayed the same in his cold and frigid demeanour, but Vash knew he didn't imagine the bit of panic that passed through his pale green eyes of the tightening of his jaw. With a testament, their chances of inheriting something came close to zero. The Frenchman made a move for the letter but a harsh glare from the Swiss man told him to stay put.

"I do not know of the contents but I insist to wait for all the concerned people (_Alfred_) to show up before opening it."

And this concluded it. There was no arguing for this was Vash Zwingli, the one in charge of the deceased's possessions, the one to ultimately decide their fate. Frowning, Francis let himself fall back him the couch, a hand in his wavy hair. Arthur went to make tea (and though he liked the idea to purposely forget to get a cup for the Frenchman, he was to much of a gentleman to do so). And so begin their long wait for the last member of their sympathetic (not really) group. Time is, of course, relative, so thought no even half an hour passed when the doorbell finally rang, Arthur and Francis were balls of nerves(It must be said that the silence, the cuckoo clock and the staring contest didn't help in any ways). Not even in the blink of an eye, Arthur was at the door, even more impressive may had been the time it took him to open the door, grab the young man, drag him and toss unceremoniously on the couch (all in a gentlemanly and refined way of course).

"He is here, now we can start."

The young man shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth, but the British man would have none of this.

"Don't even start; do you know how long you bloody wanker made us wait? You should have been here forty minutes ago! Forty minutes! And where do you think you are? This is a formal meeting, and look how you're dressed!" The Englishman would probably have continued if he didn't saw, with incredulity, the young man who seemed to shrink on himself at his words… What happened to the stubborn, arrogant and idiot man (though he finally seemed to get a clue!).

In the next moment, all brain of those present would get a break from their usual function, in the form of a bang and a loud shout.

"THE HERO IS BACK!"

The say ''bang'' was actually the door being slammed open. The say ''hero'' was actually Alfred F. Jones, who was currently making his way to the living room. His usual grin dropped off to be replaced by a pensive but curious frown at the sight of the room fourth occupant. Unaware of the tense and shocked atmosphere, he was also the first one to talk, completely unaffected by the suffocating and edgy silence.

"Heu? Hey you! You me-alike guy, just who the hell are you?"

Just like this, all the eyes went to the young man who looked at the carpet, playing with the rim of his oversized sweatshirt. Fidgeting under the attention, he opened and closed his mouth, red from the attention. Finally after a moment, he let a mouse-like voice go…

"So…Sorry…I…I think there may…has been a misunderstanding…"

They had to stretch their ears to hear, but it well…It was a beginning…

"…I…I'm here to talk...I mean…What I want to say.."

"Speak up lad!" Ah…Arthur, ever the compassionate one, the kid (for it was apparent now that this was nothing more than a kid) seemed totally terrified as he rushed his next phrase.

"Amhere to talkto Mr. ZwingliaboutmrKirkland 'sdeath.

Apparently unfazed by the boy or the situation (while Arthur who was the only one who understood the jungled words tensed) Vash nodded.

"Go on…"

Now the boy was downright trembling as he took breath after breath to try to calm himself. After an instant the shaking diminished as he finally looked up. Hesitation clear on his features and words as he refused to look anywhere but at the Swiss man.

"My…My name is Matthew Williams…And… And I am also a son of the deceased."

The tic-tac of the clock could once again be heard as Vash Zwingli cursed. Why could he never have a straight and normal heritage case?

* * *

Sorry, not much in this chapter, the introduction of the characters and the situation is always the part I find the most dificult in a story.


	3. Chapter 2: The golden apple

I write to improve my English as it is not my language, so please, if you notice any mistakes, be it in grammar, vocabulary or a sentence that doesn't make sense, I would be really grateful if you point it out.

**Summary:** After their father's death , four brothers are draw together each unique with their own set of problems. In the craziness that ensues, they discover what it means to be a family.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hetalia Axis Power

Chapter 2 :The golden apple; previously named : Really couldn't see it coming.

* * *

Chapter 2: The golden apple

_For the second time this day Matthew seriously doubted himself. Oh, he already decided to do as his father said, but here, in the shadow of…This…This building…This really imposing building… He had to make himself violent to not turn right on his heels. The first time he nearly gave up had not even been five minutes prior. He didn't know what was the scariest; the strong and sharp iron gates open on the well keep entry, or this gothic-like manor (there where no way he could ever call it a house). When Miss Zwingli told him of the whereabouts of her employer (and brother), he expected to quick drop, told what he had to and, mission complete, go home. But here, face to the massive and heavy door, all trace of his confidence vanished. The more time he wasted and the more the teen felt like he would be imposing…_

_After all, this was not really urgent; he could always just wait for at his office, couldn't he?_

_..._

_He...He was just being stupid! Honestly, this was not because the manor (he really couldn't call it a house) seemed to have been stole out of a horror movie that everything were going to turn sour…Everything would go smooth, and in half an hour it would be over! Right?...Eh…Right! Taking a deep breath, he pressed doorbell with his good hand (the left one currently in a cast) and cringed as the sound seemed to resonate on every surface._

_He didn't have the time scream as a hand shot out of the door to drag him inside for the house to swallow him._

* * *

''How old are you?''

Arthur, a really English name, after the introductions were made (though it took some time for the three half-brothers to regain their senses) Matthew doubted he could forget this name, for his owner was intimidating enough to make him has nightmare about it. He really wasn't exaggerating and later it would come to him as no surprise to learn that the manor belonged to the British man. He gave off a cold aura and severity that appeared in his rigid back, his blue suit was creaseless and his frown was difficult to miss considering his eyebrows' prominent size (it was rude to stare remembered the teen).

Despite the fact that his entrance was quite chaotic, Matt was glad of the presence of Alfred (or self-proclaimed, his amazing hero!). The loud teen (was he a teen?) had a gift for drawing the attention away from him, and with him here he didn't feel as underdressed as he should when he looked at the three adults present. While his red sweatshirt and cargo pants certainly weren't for the occasion, this was nothing compared to the brown and used leather jackets and the ripped jeans of the American (There was no way his accent was from any other places of the world.). He seemed joyous and confident a grin pasted on his face. He was easily the tallest in the room, but seemed younger than the others three. The shy teen really couldn't blame the others for mistaking him and Alfred, they both had the same ash-blond hair (though his was longer and wavier) and their visages bored several similarities behind the glasses that framed it. But the differences were also clear, from Alfred's robust frame and his sky blue eyes to the youngest frail one and violet eyes.

Matthew had never seen a purple suit before. Correction; Matthew had never seen a purple suit before meeting Francis and he was forced to admit that it suited him. In a strange way, the man seemed to be...Floral? But he was also kind of manly his wavy hair accenting his sharp features and striking blue eyes.

He was starting to curse himself; he really should have waited for the executor in his office. Then maybe the tension wouldn't be this high with Arthur staring at him…Oh maple! He asked a question, didn't he?

"F-fifteen years old"

"You're lying!" the adamant response wasn't from the gentleman (who strangely looked smug) but from a scowling Alfred who glared at him.

"Not cool to lie about this stuff, dude." The American bristled at the sight of both his "brothers" 's smirk. The Canadian blinked.

"I am not"

One of the only answers he told without stammering, but it was also one of the only he was sure and waited for. Slowly, he took from his pocket a crumpled white paper he tended to Vash. Without words he took it, unfolded it and read it. As the time slowly ticked away, Alfred seemed more agitated, the two oldest curiously looking at the reader expression. After a moment, Vash raised his head looking inquisitively at the boy.

"This is…"

"A DNA test, my father said to me that if you want to redo the test to confirm, he will pay for it." Wow, he sure had guts today, two sentences now.

His little feat remained unnoticed by the three others occupants who gave the impression to have a silent argument. Alfred was positively angry, his fists clenched and a hard look in his eyes. The other two? Definitively victorious, even the Brit had a small smirk. And why shouldn't he? Amelia John, the only woman Thomas Kirkland had married out of love, his true soul mate, the only one he remained faithful to. Or so did he claim, but the true was he made another child in her back. This made a blow to the favoured son, born from "love". Ha, who was he kidding? Francis definitely liked how this meeting was turning out. With a will there was practically no chance for him to claim anything, even less chance for Matthew (his father did always try to "pick up his mistakes" so the Frenchman doubted the man had know of the boy if the latter could have a new "father"), so the shy teen wasn't really a threat. But his presence, his existence was like a kick in the balls for the one who risked inheriting everything, and _this _was really satisfying.

"Now that everyone is there, I will open the testament."

Maybe in others circumstances it could have been funny how the four brothers instantly became focused as the executor picked up the white letter, comparable to trackmen before the gunshot.

Vash was seriously starting to get a headache…The three men screaming their head off at each others may not have helped.

When Thomas Kirkland first came to his office this wasn't completely unexpected. The man was powerful after all and must have had as many enemies as he had people wanting his fortune. The few times he met the man, he gave him the impression of a down to business, straight to the point man. So why the hell were there only five little, simple words and a signature wrote on the official paper? _To my most worthy son_. What the hell!

He knew he shouldn't have taken this case…He really shouldn't…If at the beginning the dispute may have in some point have been relevant…

"There is no way you _brute_ _d'_American can have anything, you ran away!"

"Not like you can talk Frenchie, he pratically disowned you"

…Somewhere along the way of who had the more rights to inherit what, the arguing had become senseless and…beside the point.

"Us, English men have manners!" To see the great and cold Arthur Kirkland engage in such childish (and completely pointless) argument was quite a sight to behold.

"Manners? I much prefer to have taste!"(Both literally and not)"_Espèce de taré_!" he added for good measure.

"You call that taste? And stop speaking that funny language no one understand dude."

"You are the one to talk; you're the bloody twat butchering my beautiful language!"

And so on for. This could have been funny seeing three grown men arguing of the sort but Vash only found it to be pathetic, speaking of pathetic… A glance to the side confirmed that, yes; the kid was still trying to be swallowed whole by the couch. It may also have a comic effect to see a red clad boy trying to camouflage on an emerald green sofa but really, the man was reaching his limits with the absurd of all of this. Massaging the bridge of his nose he loses all his self-control when Francis started to admonish the others on their fashion sense.

"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!"

And they did. They also froze, Alfred mouth open to retort something,

"I getting sick of all this, I AM the executor and it is ME who is going to decide who is getting what, and so help me, if I hear one word from any of you, you're never going to see the colour of Thomas Kirkland's fortune."

The deadly silence followed his threat, but this time, the American wasn't immune. He closed his mouth and hesitantly he reopened it to protest.

"One word" The Swiss man hissed, coldly, he really was fed up with this case; if they didn't behave he would follow up his words. "Now, let's all sit down, and talk calmly about it."

They were no room for arguing. They all did so (reluctantly but still). Alfred sitting beside the quiet teen (who had not muttered a word since the testament opening); the French man and English man sitting as far as they could from each other, still glaring.

"Good" said Vash, like he was talking to little kids "Now, I understand that what Mr. Kirkland senior wrote is…Quite unexpected, and vague. But it is an official paper and he was fully conscious and sane when he wrote it. However, "worthy" (he spat the words, the source of all his present misery) is subjective."

The cuckoo clock rang. It had been three hours since all this damned meeting had started and there were no way closer to figure something out than at the beginning; thing were even worse with the discovery of an new heir and the cursed…The so irritating testament that laid open on the glass table.

" worthy" is a subjective word, though his general meaning may have a stake in the inheritance's division. I will not hide you that with all his share in business and ownership of commerce this is more complex than dividing this in three or four and allowing you your share All this, will take time, more meeting…"

He didn't miss how Arthur's left eye twitched when he said nearly painfully) his next words.

"How many?"

Had he not been in position of power, Vash may have been really intimidating by the cold fury laced words or by the green glare that seemed the pierce his very soul.

"I can't really tell, I have other people to consult, research to be done and…"

"How long?"

"One year at best."

After all he never had a case like this before. So complex with so many potential heirs,the press that was awaiting like a pack of hungry wolves and one of the most important financial empire at stake. He needed backgrounds check on the four, he needed all the reporters to calm themselves and most of all, he needed time. So what if they needed to wait that long before decisions were made? Usually it took much more longer for someone to have access to his inheritance, they couldn't complain. Throught they probably would if they weren't shocked and tired (three hours of arguing tend to do that) by all of this. Resignated, Francis, was the first to stand.

"_Et bien_,There is not much we can do, is there? You have my number Mr Zwingli, for now, I take my leave."

He didn't turn back or took the time to say goobye. There was no need. The only thing them could all feel from separating themselves was relief. But with all that happened only a deep frustration could be felt. When the door closed behind him, the French man ran a hand through his wavy hair, the weak wind seemed chilly for the season. Slowly breathing out, he couldn't withhold a shaky laugh.

"I really need a drink.''

* * *

Now, chapter 3, like always setting the situation is what I find the most difficults, sorry for the crappy writting.

Try to guess the story behind this chapter's title.

I will not put the translation of little french words, only sentence when it has to do with the story.


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